TB Poems
by black4minister
Summary: I am putting all my TB poems under one heading, for conviniance mostly. Take a look if your interest, I wrote them a long time ago! Disclaimer - not mine!
1. An Angel's Angels

**A/N: As I stated in my profile, I am tidying up my stories and decided to put all my early TB poems in the one file, easy to find. Unfortunately that means I loose the lovely reviews I received, which were my first ever in the TB fandom, you guys were so good! But anyway, if there's anyone new who likes this, do review, but I'll admit that my writing style has changed quite a bit since I posted these. **

She returned to the heavens,

had to leave them behind.

She had to leave her little angels,

cause the world needs angels too.

She knew she'd break their hearts,

but they had a higher purpose.

They were meant to rescue,

meant to heal and to help.

How could they save others,

til they had known loss themselves.

Now they come to those who call,

they risk their lives for others.

And if they fall or if they falter,

she is there to pick them up.

They do not know her healing touch,

yet they know there's someone there.

She will always stand by them,

an angel's angels.


	2. Fallen Angel

My fallen angel

She was my fallen angel,

I should have known she couldn't stay.

Heaven only let's us have,

their angels for a day.

She fell to earth,

she stole my heart.

I loved her from,

the very start.

She looked so pretty,

in dress of white.

My gentle angel,

what a sight!

She gave me then,

a greatest joy.

She gave to me,

my first born boy.

Four more followed,

each one a love.

But then came the call,

from up above.

She was swept away,

by a distant rumble.

And left me and,

my boys to stumble.

She was my fallen angel,

I should have known she couldn't stay.

Heaven only lets us have,

their angels for a day.


	3. I know not my little man

I woke up one day to discover,

that I no longer knew my family.

It seemed that I had gone to sleep,

the night I buried my wife,

and over night my boys had grown,

had changed.

How did I miss my youngest son's

first bike ride.

Why was it my oldest

holding the back of the seat?

My little Johnny taking the pictures?

Where was I?

Wasn't Alan still two years old?

He wasn't old enough to ride a bike.

And yet he comes to tell me,

that for his next birthday,

his fifth,

Scott shall teach him to skate.

And then flies by my Gordon,

the one I thought would never grow up.

Last thing I remember he was seven,

Now he's babbling about the day he turns ten.

He always had Lucy's sense of humour,

but it's not the same as it was.

He's still the one to make his brother's laugh,

but where he used to be unstoppable,

a look from Scott now quietens him.

Homework has taken leisure time,

he's reading books on history.

Virgil sits by the piano.

Eleven years of age.

He's writing a song for music class,

quietly tapping keys.

I see him turn to his eldest brother,

ask advice and counsel.

Where went the little boy,

who would beg his mother to teach him to play?

Now he plays alone.

John skipped from ten to twelve.

My shy little star gazer is reading books,

books on rocket science and the universe.

Constantly asking questions of his older brother.

His room has detailed star charts on the walls,

replacing the children's solar chart I got him.

And Scott?

My first born son.

When did he become a man?

When did he step into the shoes I couldn't fill?

He is everywhere at once.

Helping John with homework,

listening to Virgil's half finished song.

He reads to Alan while listening to Gordon.

I watch the boys interact with him.

Watch them come to him for help,

for comfort and for love.

He is their constant,

he is what I should be.

It hits me and it scares me,

scares me more than any thing in the air force.

I have let my boys become strangers,

let them grow up without me.

Scott has filled my place,

grown up too quick.

He's too young to be a parent,

yet he's putting me to shame.

How did I lose them?

When did they stop coming to me,

and turned instead to their brother,

no more than a child himself.

When did he learn to deal with them,

to comfort them in their loss.

Not one parent, but two.

I have a sudden urge to fix it,

to put it straight.

I want to take the world

from Scott's shoulders.

Show Johnny the universe

he longs to see.

I want them to turn to me,

to ask me, to need me.

But will they change?

Has Scott lost the only childhood he has?

Have I been to long

a stranger in my house.

A myth that wasn't present.

Have I left it to late?


	4. Never more a child

They watched her go,

never knowing that she wouldn't return.

They stood by her grave,

four crying,

one too young to understand.

Each one lost their mother,

and each one lost something more.

The eldest buried with his mother,

what childhood he had left.

The star gazer lost his link to the heavens,

or maybe found it.

The singer buried his ever patient teacher,

his muse.

The prankster lost the smile he had always loved,

had always striven to bring to her face.

The blue eyed baby had a hole left in his heart,

missing something he'd never had.

With their mother,

they buried their father's soul.

They buried her in earth,

but daddy buried himself in work.

They mourned the loss of both.

The eldest took the lead,

bravely filling shoes,

years too big for him.

He was their mother,

he was their father.

He showed the crying star gazer,

their mother's place in the sky.

He sat and listened to the music

of the broken hearted singer.

He coaxed out once more the smile,

of the grim prankster.

And he filled the hole in the baby's heart,

with a piece of his own.

And then there was a hand,

gently placed on his shoulder.

The father he was devoted to,

the father he longed to be like,

had come back to him.

His father took back the shoes

that he had tried to fill.

He gazed, and he listened,

and he laughed, and he loved.

The eldest could be himself,

anything he wanted to be.

He had nothing more to worry him.

But he did not give up that worry,

once a parent, always a parent.

And Scott Tracy would never again

be a child.


	5. Ours is not to question why

We're sent to help,

the nameless masses.

And each year comes,

more time passes.

The work never stops,

so neither do we.

But sometimes I think,

do people really see.

They call angel,

hero, savour,

no one questions

our behaviour.

Do they know

the reason why,

we question not,

just do and die.

For every rescue

we complete,

on mountain, cliff,

highway, street.

The only one

we couldn't save,

is why we act

so tough and brave.


	6. Tears of a child

He lay,

face down on his bed.

His pillow soaked,

with his bitter tears.

Didn't even know,

why he was crying.

He wasn't sad,

he wasn't anything.

He only felt nothing,

just a black hole.

He can hear,

his little brothers,

crying softly,

and baby Alan wailing.

But nobody came,

they were alone,

left to deal with,

that grief alone.

Deal? No,

wrong word.

No one knew what to do,

where to go.

John and Virgil were too,

crying in their rooms.

They understood,

they got it.

Gordon and Alan did not,

they were crying,

not for grief,

but for their mother.

They wanted her back,

but she wasn't coming.

It hit him,

fresh tears came.

She wasn't coming back,

she wouldn't ever come back.

What would they do?

Who would look after them?

His dad was gone,

lost in a bottle.

The younger ones,

they needed someone.

Was that his job?

He was the oldest.

His dad had told him,

he should look after them.

But it hurt just to think.

He didn't feel he could move.

How could he help them,

he wasn't strong enough.

But they were weaker still,

and they didn't have anyone.

He would have to go,

have to find the strength.

It was his job,

he was the eldest.

Scott picked himself up,

up from the pillow.

He wiped away the tears,

and suppressed the pain.

With dry eyes, but broken heart,

he went to help his brothers.


	7. True Treasures

Well, this one is comparing the boys to jewels, cause we all now they are, and, best of all, this one rhymes, yeah! Yeah, I know I'm really sad, so sue me. So, don't forget to review, I love them.

The fiery ruby,

burning red.

Speaks his mind,

without his head.

The sky blue sapphire,

the deep blue sea.

How much water

can one man be?

The greenest emerald,

sparkling within.

Without him,

who would sing?

The cool, clear crystal,

a humble start.

The keeper of peace,

the gentle heart.

The hard cut diamond,

hidden inside,

the brave young man,

the crying child.


End file.
